Just as she drew to a stop, another woman, this one older and heavier, with her gray hair gathered in a hairnet and her body draped with an apron that said SALLY on the right side, swung through the double doors with Harper’s picture in hand and glared at her across the counter. “Who are you?”
Taken aback, Harper didn’t immediately answer, but she figured honesty was the best way to go with these people. She drew her business card from her wallet and held it out. “I work for an attorney in Portland. I’m in town looking for the girl in that picture. An Uber driver I talked to drove her out here once a few months ago. I’m hoping maybe you recognize her?”
Sally didn’t look down at the photo, just continued to eye Harper warily as if she were a snake about ready to strike. “What kind of attorney?”
“Wills and probate. That kind of thing.” It wasn’t a total lie. Andy did manage several wills. “Have you seen her recently?”
“Sounds like a pile of BS to me.”
Voices quieted in the restaurant behind Harper. Without even looking, she knew all eyes were locked on her and the scene at the counter. “I work for Renwick and Associates. I’m a litigation investigator with the firm. If you want to call the offices to verify my identity, feel free. They’ll tell you who I am.”
Sally lifted the card. “And if I ask if this Renwick and Associates represents the Plague, they’ll tell me what?”
Harper’s brow lowered. She’d heard that name before—the Plague—she just wasn’t sure where. Or how it was connected to Melony Strauss. “I’m not sure who or what the Plague is, but that’s not why I’m here.”
Sally’s eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here?”
The animosity was palpable. Harper took a deep breath. “The girl in that picture has been missing for several days. Our firm represents a man who’s been labeled a person of interest in her disappearance. I’m trying to locate her before the cops charge him with something he didn’t do.”
Holy shit. Had she actually said that? She still didn’t know if McClane was innocent when it came to what had happened to this girl, but apparently her subconscious had already made up its mind, something she knew could end up burning her in the long run.
Sally pursed her lips and continued to eye Harper suspiciously. Long seconds passed in silence where Harper had no idea what the woman was thinking. Abruptly, the woman turned and called, “Wait here,” over her shoulder.
Harper didn’t have a clue what was going on or what the woman was doing, but she sure as hell planned to google the shit out of “the Plague” as soon as she got back to her car.
Quietly, the man who’d been running the cash register stepped back to the counter and rang up her coffee. “That’ll be three fifty.”
Three fifty for a coffee she hadn’t drunk. Harper handed the man her credit card while Jill reappeared and quietly moved back into the dining room.
Long minutes filled with an awkward silence passed as the man waited for her receipt to print. Sally reappeared just as the man was sliding Harper’s receipt across the counter to her.
“Here.” Sally slapped a yellow note on top of her receipt. “That’s all you’re gonna get.”
An address was scrawled across the paper. No name, no city, just a house number and street name. Harper looked up. “Is this here in town?”
“I got nothin’ else to say. You want to know more, you find out on your own.” Sally turned toward the man at the cash register. “Don’t you give her more.” Then she disappeared back into the kitchen.
“It’s here in town,” the man whispered.
“Thanks.”
“Outside of town,” he corrected, shooting a look over his shoulder toward the kitchen doors. “Be careful. They’re even less friendly than she is.”
Harper’s nerves jangled as she thanked him again and tucked the address in her pocket. But as she turned and wove around tables, heading for the door, she knew he was watching her. Everyone in the restaurant was watching her.
“Sheesh.” Harper didn’t take a full breath until she was back in her sedan. “If everyone in town is this friendly, I can see why you ran,” she muttered to the photo as she tossed it on the passenger’s seat.
It took her about ten minutes to find the right road—her GPS kept disconnecting in the small town because of its spotty satellite signals. She might have turned around if the guy at the restaurant hadn’t told her the address was really out of town, but she kept going even when the houses grew farther apart and the woods became denser.
She slowed as she approached a gravel road flanked on both sides by tall pines. There was no address sign, and with the fading light she couldn’t see more than twenty or so yards down the long lane. Adrenaline pulsing, she turned off the highway and slowly crept down the lane, jostling in her seat as her tires dropped into potholes in the old gravel road.
Harper’s instincts went on high alert as that name—the Plague—revolved in her mind. She hadn’t taken the time to google it yet, but she knew she’d heard it before.
Glad she’d grabbed her replacement weapon this morning when she’d gone home, Harper drew a breath that did little to settle her nerves. The weight of the Glock against her hip beneath her jacket was reassuring, but even she knew it was stupid to be out here alone. Andy had warned her. Even the man at the restaurant had warned her. She could be walking into anything out here. Common sense told her this was a dumb idea and it would be best to come back with backup. Or at the very least, a witness.
She looked for a place to turn around but couldn’t find one. The trees were thick right up to the road. Knowing she had to be closer to the end than she was to the road, she decided not to back up but to keep going.
“Shit.” She hit the brake when the trees opened up and a house came into view—a small cabin with a long porch and a man already stepping off the last step with a shotgun in his hands, lifted and pointed right at her windshield as he moved toward her car. Shoving the car into “Park,” she slowly pushed her door open, careful to duck down just in case. “Don’t shoot,” she called. “I’m not here for trouble.”
“Turn your car right back around and get your ass out of here,” the man yelled, still stalking toward her.
He looked to be in his late thirties, was dressed in jeans and a flannel work shirt, and his eyes were wild and defensive.
Harper scanned the house as she pulled her weapon, then climbed out and ducked behind the open door for protection. She couldn’t see anyone else. No other threats lurking in the shadows. “Sally from the Black Iron Grill sent me out here. I’m looking for a girl. Melony Strauss. I’m not here to hurt her.”
“Sally sent you?” The man’s voice grew more tense. “Bullshit. Get the fuck off my property.”
Shit. This was about to get bloody. Fast.
“It’s true,” Harper yelled, hoping for anything to defuse the situation. “I work for an attorney in Portland. I’m not a cop. I’m not with the Plague. I promise. I just want to make sure she’s okay. They’re trying to blame her disappearance on an innocent man. One who I think might have been trying to help her.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that. Get the hell back in your car, or I’m gonna shoot.”
Holy shit. Harper’s pulse went stratospheric.
“Daddy, don’t!”
The panicked female voice from somewhere close echoed in Harper’s head.
Gravel crunched, then the man yelled, “Get back in the house right now.”
“No,” the girl said, stronger this time. “I want to hear what she has to say.”
“Nothing she says will make a difference,” he snapped.
Confused, Harper lifted her head just enough so she could see over the door. The man was looking back toward the porch where a girl no more than fifteen with blonde hair and wide, scared eyes stood clutching a post near the stairs. A girl Harper recognized.
Excitement flared inside Harper. “Melony Strauss? My name’s Harper Blake. I just want to ask y
ou a few questions.”
Harper stayed where she was, but on the other side of the car door she heard the man mutter, “Goddammit, Mel. I told you to stay the hell inside and let me handle it.”
“Handle it by shooting someone?” She huffed. “Yeah, that wouldn’t get you sent to jail or anything. And then where would I be?”
Footsteps sounded over gravel, moving closer, then the girl said, “Ms. Blake? I’m Melony. Who’s looking for me?”
Slowly, because Harper still wasn’t sure what the girl’s father would do, Harper pushed to her feet, but she was careful to tuck her gun in her hip holster before she moved out from behind the car door so he couldn’t see.
The man had lowered his weapon, but he stood only a few feet away with a scowl on his weathered face and a skeptical look in his eyes as he watched her closely.
Focusing on the girl, she tugged the picture of McClane from her pocket and held it up. “I work for an attorney. Do you recognize this guy?”
The girl took the photo and studied it, then warily glanced up at Harper. “You said he’s been charged with my disappearance?”
“No, but he could be. My boss represents him. I need to know anything you can tell me about him.”
“Mel,” her father warned.
She shot him a look, then refocused on Harper. “I do know him. And you’re right. He did try to help me.”
“How?”
“He gave me a wad of cash and a bus ticket so I could get out of that hellhole and come home. If you represent him, don’t you know who he is?”
“Yes, I know his name.”
She shook her head. “I’m not talking about this real name. He’s Robin Hood. He’s the guy all the girls in the city have been whispering about. The one helping girls like me get away from the Plague before it’s too late.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Harper’s hands were vibrating by the time she slid back behind the wheel of her car over an hour later, this time not from fear but from excitement.
The lights were on in the house, and since dusk had fallen while she was inside talking to Melony and her father, she could see them clearly through the windows as he hugged the girl and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Harper didn’t blame the man for being overly protective. His runaway daughter had just come home, escaping a nightmare of epic proportions in the city. No wonder he didn’t want anyone from the outside coming near her.
Not wanting to worry them, she started her car, slowly backed around, and headed down the drive. But thoughts and information were pinging around in her brain like pool balls smacking into each other, and with them, her one chance for redemption.
Everything she’d learned from Melony Strauss had been disturbing on multiple levels. She still had a bunch of research to do, but the conversation with Melony had triggered her memory, and she remembered what she’d heard in passing about the Plague at the station.
The Plague was a dark-web, black-market group involved in human trafficking. They were connected to black market groups overseas. They had a website that often changed servers, but more disturbing than anything was Melony’s story and the reality that the Plague was targeting runaway teens on the streets, posting photos of them online, and selling the unsuspecting kids off to the highest bidders.
McClane must have seen Melony’s photo on that website, had figured out she was waiting tables at Leather and Lace, and intercepted the naive girl before the Plague’s handlers—who Harper guessed had to be connected to the owners of that club—had been able to sell her or move her out of the country and into Europe. He’d protected that girl when her dick of a boss had come after her as she was leaving the club that night. Harper wasn’t entirely sure what had gone down that night, but Melony had said he’d intervened, the two had gotten into a fight—which was how he’d banged up his hands—then McClane had gotten her to safety.
Harper thought back to McClane’s stoic face during their first meeting, and she replayed his answer in her head when she asked him if he’d planned to meet Melony Strauss after he left her at that club.
“Whether I did or didn’t doesn’t change the fact I don’t know where she went that night.”
Harper had known he’d been holding back that day. She just hadn’t looked hard enough to see why.
Her skin warmed and her blood hummed as she remembered him standing at the end of her bed last night, watching her warily with a look she hadn’t been able to define. At the time, she’d thought he’d been watching her with distrust. Now she knew it was compassion. Even for someone he’d thought had already pegged him as guilty.
But he wasn’t. Her instincts had been right last night. He was innocent. Innocent of everything.
She reached for her phone as she drove into Vernonia, the lights illuminating the dark pavement and the handful of cars out on the streets. As soon as it registered a signal, she pulled into a parking lot, killed the ignition, and dialed the one person in the world she swore she’d never speak to again.
The line rang three times before a voice she didn’t recognize answered, “Detectives division. Officer Hock. How can I help you?”
“I need to speak with Captain Robinson.”
“The captain’s busy. You can leave a message if you—”
“He’s not too busy for this.” Harper knew Robinson was in his office, safely tucked behind that desk he delegated from, and that this newbie was feeding her a line of bullshit. “Go tell him Harper Blake is on the line and that I’ve got information he needs to hear.”
“He won’t—”
“My father saved his fucking life in the line of duty. Remind him of that. The least he can do is give me five damn minutes of his precious time. He owes my family that much.”
Silence echoed back to her, then the officer said, “Hold on.”
The line clicked to lousy elevator music, and as Harper waited, she brushed the hair back from her face, knowing this was her one chance to get her life back. It was her chance to give Rusty his back as well.
Moments later, a deep voice said, “Blake? I don’t have time for whatever drama you—”
“You’re going to make time. I know your officers are chasing their tails trying to shut down the Plague. I can bring you the major players.”
Silence. Then in a low voice, Robinson said, “How?”
“I’ve got a connection. One who knows how they work.”
“You never worked vice.”
“No, but I’m aware of what the Plague is doing. Judging by your reaction, you are too. Do you want them stopped or not?”
“Of course we do. It’s one of our main goals for the year. But I’m confused by your involvement here. What’s in it for you? The credit?”
She shifted in her seat. “I don’t want any credit. You and your department can have all of it.”
“Then what?”
“I want to be reinstated.”
Silence fell over the line, followed by a heavy sigh. “I can’t make that happen.”
“Yes. You can.”
“The commander will never go for it.”
“He will. If you convince him.”
“Blake—”
“You owe me, Daryl. You know I didn’t do a damn thing to Pierce. You know I was railroaded during that entire investigation. You know it would never have played out the way it did if my father was still alive.”
Robinson sighed, and close to fifty miles away, she could picture him resting his elbow on his desk, rubbing his bald head with the palm of his big hand. “Bad things happen to good people, Blake. You know sometimes there’s nothing we can d—”
“Bullshit. You can do this. I want my job back. You get it for me, and I’ll bring you the head of the Plague in Portland. You and the commander can take all the credit. I don’t care about that. I just want my job back. We both know I deserve that much after all the shit I’ve endured.”
Silence echoed across the line again, then Robinson sighed once more. “I c
an’t guarantee anything.”
She’d won. Relief seeped deep into her chest. “No answer, no bust.”
“I’ll talk to the commander and text you.”
“Tonight,” she added before he could hang up. “I want an answer tonight.”
“Fine. I’ll text you tonight. But Harper,” he said, his voice softening, “are you sure you can do this? These people are ruthless. This isn’t just a local gang we’re talking about. The Plague has connections all through Eastern Europe and into the Middle East. If they find out you’re on to them—”
“They won’t.”
“You can’t be sure.”
She couldn’t, but she knew one person who’d been fucking with them for years, and they still hadn’t been able to find him. All she had to do was get him to help her. “I am. And I always deliver, Robinson. You know that. It’s why I made a damn good cop.”
He sighed again. “I remember. Just . . . be careful, okay? And keep your phone near you.”
The line clicked dead in her ear. Stomach tight with excitement, she lowered the phone and stared at the screen in the darkness.
He’d taken the bait. She had one chance now. One chance to earn her old life back. And there was no way she was about to let that chance slip through her fingers.
She dropped her phone back in her console and shifted into “Reverse.” And as she turned onto the dark highway heading back to Portland, she was already contemplating which club McClane planned to hit next, when that would be, and how she was going to convince him to partner up with her.
Rusty had kept to himself for three days. He’d done as he’d told his brothers he would: he’d called his mom, assured her he was not in any serious trouble, then laid low on the vineyard for three nights so as not to attract any other unnecessary attention. While he wasn’t at all interested in being set up for a blind date, he’d even considered the “regular date” idea, then dismissed it. He couldn’t think of a woman he had any desire to spend an entire dinner with. At least not one who didn’t hate his guts.
By Friday, he needed to get out. His house felt too big and empty, his head too full of thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking. And just his luck, the Plague had posted info to their website Thursday morning about a new auction. For an underage girl whose picture fit the profile of the girl who’d gotten away the night Blake had followed him into the tunnels.
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